Delicate
by WonderstruckEnchanted
Summary: "So why do you fill my sorrow, with the words you've borrowed? When there's nothing to give, how can you ask for more?" On the outside Kendall might seem okay, but there are cracks upon the surface, and inside he's broken beyond repair.
1. Delicate

**Disclaimer: I don't own Big Time Rush, or anything affiliated.**

**Author's Note: Firstly, sorry for not updating _Nobody's Home_ in forever. I am currently working on it, and have every intention of completing it. I will update it soon. Secondly, this one-shot began as a therapeutic poem, so it's about me, but I decided to relate it to Big Time Rush, so that it could be expressed.**

Kendall had been staring at the last line on his sheet of paper for the past fifteen minutes. He'd finished the task in less than ten minutes, while Logan, usually first to finish, was still writing. Kendall's immobility hadn't gone unnoticed by Logan, nothing went unnoticed by Logan. For the past couple of weeks he had noticed Kendall's lack of communication, interest and effort. Logan had put it down to stress, caused by constant exams and pressure from Gustavo. The only thing that nagged him in the back of his mind was that, even in their free time Kendall was quiet. He didn't talk as much as anymore. Actually, thinking back, Kendall didn't _talk_ anymore.

Logan missed Kendall. He was always around, but at the same time he wasn't. He was always in his room, only ever emerging for school, rehearsals, and meals. He was never present, but he was always around. Kendall had was different, not only had his mood changed, but his appearance, and musical style too. Instead of plaid shirts, and various colours of Vans, he began wearing black tops and jackets. He even started wearing his old pair of black Converse and his black Dr. Martens. Those in the apartment would sometimes hear Kendall blasting rock and punk music from his room, instead of the usual pop and indie everyone was used to hearing.

Logan wasn't the only one who had noticed. James, Katie, Mrs. Knight and even Carlos (who usually tended to be quite oblivious), noticed that something about Kendall was different. Logan wanted to help Kendall, but didn't know how. Kendall was the one they looked to for guidance, their role-model, the unofficial leader. He was always the one to help fix any problem. He was there whenever they needed him. He always stayed strong, especially after his dad died; he was there for his mom and sister. It was almost as if he had built walls around himself, preventing letting things in, and also letting things out. After that, he took on the role of supporting others, and being there for them, which made people look up to him.

Logan didn't feel quite right with the idea of asking Kendall how he felt. He didn't even know how to approach him; he didn't know how to talk to him. What would he say? 'Hey Kendall, why don't you talk anymore?' or 'what's wrong?' he probably wouldn't even answer him.

Logan looked down at his sheet, and then back at Kendall. He nudged him slightly, "are you finished?"

"Yeah. Why?" Kendall asked his voice hoarse.

"Just wondering." Logan knew he shouldn't, as the poems or stories that were being written, were supposed to be personal, but he needed to know. He needed to know what was up with Kendall, and maybe the poem would give him his answer. He peered over his shoulder and began reading.

_'He sits in his room,_

_Listening to Damien Rice,_

_He wants to be free,_

_But he'll have to pay the price._

_You see, he's been fighting battles,_

_With no one by his side,_

_He could tell the truth,_

_But then they'll know he lied._

_He's always there when he's needed,_

_He has responsibilities you see,_

_Almost like unwritten rules,_

_He plays an important role in society._

_He keeps his secrets locked inside him,_

_But they can't stay away forever,_

_They're a heavy weight on his shoulders,_

_But sometimes lighter than a feather._

_One day he'll open his heart,_

_He'll finally learn to love,_

_It'll be pure, it'll be magical,_

_He will be flying freely like a dove._

_He'll begin to live,_

_Like never before,_

_When there's nothing left to take,_

_They'll still ask for more._

_Slowly but surely,_

_His heart will begin to heal,_

_But then everything will break,_

_And so will the seal._

_He's broken inside,_

_Why do they fill his sorrow?_

_They know it'll hurt,_

_With the words they borrow._

_He'll take it with him,_

_Where he's all alone,_

_When nobody's watching,_

_ He does it all at home._

_It hurts so much,_

_He craves release,_

_And although he knows it's not quite right,_

_His blade will bring him peace._

_He will lay the knife on his wrist,_

_He'll cut so deep it reaches his vein,_

_But he won't care,_

_He does it to feel alive again._

_He doesn't shed tears anymore,_

_Now it's the red blood that cries,_

_He fights his battles every day,_

_Until the day he dies._

_He knows he's got things to live for,_

_He has his whole life planned ahead,_

_But some days it's so bad,_

_That he wishes to be lying on his death-bed._

_More than a person really should,_

_He wakes up each day,_

_And for a second everything is fine,_

_His problems seem so far away._

_Each day brings him new pains, __  
And also something new,  
A chance to leave his past behind,  
And __colour__ his world something other than blue.'_

The last line broke Logan's heart. His best friend was broken beyond repair, and there was nothing he could do. He almost burst into tears in the middle of the English lesson. The amount of emotion that Kendall had poured into his poem overwhelmed Logan. He blinked a couple of times, took a deep breath, and repeatedly re-read the last stanza, silently praying that somehow his ritual would change the whole poem. Logan got his answer, but now he wasn't sure if he actually wanted it. He needed to do something, but what, he didn't know.

"Kendall," Logan took a deep breath, and asked softly, "are you okay?" Kendall stiffened at hearing the question. He pulled on his sleeves, and picked at the hole by the cuff. He fiddled with it until the loose thread unravelled. "Kendall, please talk to me." Kendall silently curled the thread around his finger, ignoring Logan. He softly began to hum the tune to Delicate, he closed his eyes, effectively blocking out the outside world. "Please don't ignore me. Are you okay?" Logan put his hand on his wrist, Kendall's eyes flew open, and he stopped humming. He flinched, and pulled his arm out of Logan's grasp.

"Yes Logan, I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm okay, I promise."

**These are the lies I tell until I can get home and pick up the blade and see the beads of blood… and then, then I'm okay.**

**WonderstruckEnchanted**


	2. Wonderland

**Disclaimer: I don't own Big Time Rush, or anything affiliated.**

**AN: I wrote this a couple of days ago to get through how I was feeling. I added some parts to relate to Big Time Rush. I hope you like it.**

**Everything written like '**this**' is the story, and everything written like '**_this_**' are my thoughts or poems.**

She's finally going to swallow those pills, pull that trigger, jump of that bridge, or hang from that ceiling. She can't take it anymore. She can't deal with this pain anymore. It just gets worse every day. She has tried to survive for so long, but she's breaking. She's been breaking all this time. She doesn't see the point in trying, coping, hurting, breaking, breathing, or living. She is tired and she is done. Tired of everything and done with life. Today is the day, today is the day she dies.

_No reason to stay is a good reason to go._

Its two o'clock in the morning and Katie's crying her eyes out. She dries her eyes, and grabs a pen and paper, she's ready to say goodbye.

'Later today, you'll find me lying on the floor, not breathing. Or you'll get a phone call. Or you'll hear it on the news. I'm sorry, but I'm falling apart, and I can't take it anymore. Do you remember the first time I told you that I wanted to die? You stood there with a look of complete disbelief on your face; you couldn't believe that your daughter was in such a dark place. Do you remember when I told you that I'm not afraid of death? To me, death is nothing but life's next great adventure. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. I'm sorry I can't be around anymore. I love you. I love you more than anything. Goodbye.'

_I don't want to care anymore._

_I don't want to be anymore._

_I don't want to love anymore._

_I don't want to live anymore._

The tears roll down Katie's cheeks, she signs her letter, and folds it into an envelope. Brushing her hair out of her eyes, she looks around the apartment, taking everything in one last time. Although it pains her to leave, she won't miss it one bit.

_I got tired of hoping._

_I stopped dreaming._

_I must have peace._

_I'm letting go._

Katie walks up the back stairway to the roof. She walks right to the edge of the roof, and looks down its exhilarating. That's where she'll end up soon, on the ground. Her body broken just like her heart. Katie hangs her legs over the edge of the building, lightly swinging back and forth. She looks out at the city before her, the beauty of the lights, the people, and their stories. It amazes her, millions of people around the world, just like her.

_I'm not quite dying tonight; I died a long time ago._

Katie shakily stands up. A few tears escape, and she takes a deep breath. Katie looks up at the sky, staring at the stars, searching for something before she ends her pain. She wipes her eyes, and looks down at the street below.

**_She's just sad._**

_She cries herself to sleep at night._

_She wishes she could die._

_She has nothing to live for._

_She harms herself every day._

_She is obsessed with perfection._

_She wishes she was special._

_She wishes she wasn't herself._

_She's sick of life._

_She's lost herself._

_She breaks a little more every day._

_She wants to feel something._

_She feels like she's not enough._

_She has tired, lifeless eyes._

_She withdraws herself from friends and family._

_She's tired of everything._

_She wants to be happy._

_She is out of control._

_She feels ugly._

_She is losing it._

_She feels fat._

_She is falling apart._

_She wishes she was something beautiful._

_All she can do is hate herself._

**_But, you know, she's just sad._**

Katie softly drags her foot across the cold stone of the roof. She could turn back now. She could run back downstairs. She could burn the note she left behind, almost as if tonight never happened. She could go to bed, wake up in the morning and continue life as normal.

_To die would be an awfully big adventure._

But she can't do any of those things, they aren't want she wants. What she wants is simple, she wants to die. She can't live anymore, but that's okay; she's going to a better place. To her, anywhere but here is a better place. Katie puts her foot out, it hovers there for a second. Just before she leans forwards she whispers something to herself.

"To wonderland."

**WonderstruckEnchanted**


	3. Bleed

**A/N: I wrote this awhile ago. I had the intention of uploading it, but I wanted add more. But now it's just as long as it was four months ago, that's why it's so short. So, I've decided to upload it, after all I don't plan on turning it into a complete story.**

**WARNING: May be triggering.**

I eagerly press the call button, and wait to hear the message. I hear muffled voices in the background, and after a while wonder if she's aware that it's gone to voicemail. The voices become clearer, and I don't have to strain to hear anymore. I'm about to cut off the call, when I hear my name and I perk up. 'I don't think it'll last, it's pathetic. She acts as if we don't know, but we do.' Then there was a lot of laughter. My blood ran cold at her words; I sit there frozen in shock. I throw my phone down on the sofa, turn off the TV, and run up to my room. I shut my door behind me, and fall to my knees. I lay my head in my lap, refusing to let myself cry, but with their words and laughter constantly running through my head, I feel hot tears running down my cheeks. Two of my best friends hurt me, and that thought only angered me.

I get this itching feeling to do something with my hands. I have a lot of aggression coursing through my veins; I need to take it out on something. I scan my room looking for anything I could break, when my eyes land on my sharpener. I dry away my tears, and think about what I should do. I mean I must have done something wrong for them to talk about me like that; it could only have been my fault. Everything seemed to be my fault lately; my parents wouldn't stop arguing over me, my were grades slowly but steadily slipping, and because of the amount of my parents' money I was using up to provide for my tuition and extracurricular clubs, there wasn't enough money left for everyone else. All of that made sense to me, so what better way to release my anger than on myself, I deserved it. I manage to unscrew the blade from the sharpener, lay it my hand and in the moment I do the only thing I can think of; I cut.

I take the blade, press into my flesh, and drag it across my arm. Almost immediately, tiny beads of blood appear. I take blade again, and cut my arm again. Only I press deeper, cutting faster; the blood appears immediately this time. I stare mesmerised by the blood as it runs down my arm. I do it again, until I'm satisfied. I let the blood dry before pulling my jumper over my head, and pulling my sleeves down to my wrists. I really should sanitise my cuts, but right now, I couldn't care less. The wool irritates my fresh cuts but it only relieves me even more.

**Please review.**

**WonderstruckEnchanted**


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